


Congratulations

by twyly56



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Absent John Winchester, Amused Gabriel (Supernatural), Angel Family, Attempt at Humor, Awesome Bobby Singer, Crack Treated Seriously, Curious Castiel (Supernatural), Cute Kids, Cute Lucifer/Sam Winchester, Cute Sam Winchester, Exasperated Lucifer (Supernatural), Fallen Angel Lucifer (Supernatural), Fledgling Balthazar (Supernatural), Fledgling Castiel (Supernatural), Gen, Good Older Sibling Lucifer (Supernatural), Guardian Angel Lucifer (Supernatural), Guardian Angels, Guardian-Ward Relationship, Lucifer & Sam Winchester Friendship, Nice Lucifer (Supernatural), Platonic Samifer, Pre-Castiel/Dean Winchester, Protective Lucifer, Ruler of Hell Lucifer (Supernatural), Suspicious Dean Winchester, There's No Cage I Guess, Viceroy of Heaven Michael (Supernatural), Young Dean Winchester, Young Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-02-04
Packaged: 2019-10-03 20:24:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17290799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twyly56/pseuds/twyly56
Summary: "What... what the heck is this?" Lucifer asked. He gestured at the folder that had been shoved into his hands. "Is this some kind of joke?""No, brother," Michael said, all but rolling his eyes in irritation. He crossed his arms over his chest. "Apparently, Father believes that it will be good for you to have a charge of your own.""I am literally the freaking Devil. In what world is that a good idea?"





	1. Chapter 1

The Ruler of the Underworld did enjoy wearing Nick. He was a very comfortable vessel. Lucifer stretched out in his more human body, leaning over the park bench, leg swinging lazily in the air. Wearing all white was impractical when Topside, so he was wearing more of what Nick preferred today. A dark green shirt under a brown leather jacket and dark jeans and scuffed boots. He had his arms crossed behind his head, humming 'Stairway to Heaven' as he waited semi patiently for his elder brother to show up. He had no idea why Mikey had to be so dramatic and arrive late to his own meeting. 

He sat up and reached for his little bag of bread. The fallen angel got up from his bench, walking over to the pond, bread in hand. Lucifer broke off a piece of bread and tossed it into the water. A small white swan paddled forward and nibbled on the bread. He smiled. He crumbled up the rest of the loaf and threw it into the lake. Lucifer hummed happily, and he turned away. He meandered back over to his bench and sat down, crossing his leg over his knee. He leaned his head back, letting pale winter sunlight wash over his face.

So beautiful. This loveliness of nature. This is what he'd missed. You just couldn't get this in Hell, he had to admit. A foreign presence of angelicness thrummed at the edge of his perception, and he slid his eyes open lazily. A man wearing a neat black suit with dark hair and piercing blue eyes stared back at him. Lucifer smiled at him, and he pushed himself to his feet, stepping toward him. The grass, damp with the morning dew, stuck to the bottoms of his boots. 

"Hello, brother," the Viceroy of Heaven's voice rumbled. 

"Hey, Michael. What's up?" Lucifer said. He made a little wave with his hand. His smile fell when his elder brother remained stoic as ever. "So... why did you call me?" 

"This is for you," Michael replied. He thrust a folder that on a first glance looked just like any old manila folder. But the second it touched his fingers, Lucifer felt the pulse of a new soul's essence pressed inside. It was warm and pure and obviously an infantile human's. Father damn it. He knew exactly what this was. 

"What... what the heck is this?" Lucifer asked. He gestured at the folder that had been shoved into his hands. "Is this some kind of joke?"

"No, brother," Michael said, all but rolling his eyes in irritation. He crossed his arms over his chest. "Apparently, Father believes that it will be good for you to have a charge of your own."

"I am literally the freaking Devil. In what world is that a good idea?" Lucifer asked in disbelief. 

"It is not as if I am thrilled about this arrangement either, Lucifer, but Father was rather insistent," Michael replied dryly. His lips tilted up at the edges in a rare smirk. Lucifer was actually taken aback. His elder brother barely wore anything other than a poker face. "He said if you need any help that you can ask Gabriel." 

What the hell? 

"No one has even heard from Gabriel in _centuries,_ " Lucifer reminded him, raising an eyebrow. He used to the closest to the youngest Archangel, but their little brother had gone AWOL a while ago. No one knew where he was. Except Father probably. 

"That is your issue now, not mine, brother," Michael responded with all the nonchalance of a saint. 

"What about Hell? I can't just _leave_ it," Lucifer said. "I barely even visit Earth anymore. I'm a busy man. The Underworld doesn't just run itself. The only reason I came here at all was because of your request." 

"Why not let one of your demons handle the day to day crises? Surely they cannot mess it up more than it is already. Why not one of your Knights?" Michael suggested. 

"Oh, all of them are dead except for Cain and Abaddon," Lucifer told him. "Cain has his own bee farm, and Abaddon is sort of stuck in a time portal at the moment." 

"Cain will not do as you ask?" Michael asked. 

"Probably not. The whole reason most of my Knights are dead is because Abaddon killed his mortal wife and disrupted his life of nonviolence," Lucifer replied. 

"What about your Elite? The Princes?" Michael prodded. Lucifer snorted and shook his head. 

"Absolutely not. Azazel, as loyal as he is to me, is very much a fanatic, to the point that it is actually disturbing. He would make a terrible leader. Dagon is alright, but not really my first pick. Lilith is trapped neck deep in the Pit still. Asmodeus is just... no. Just no," Lucifer said. He made a face, making a slashing motion with his hands. Michael raised his eyebrows. "Don't like him."

"Perhaps a lesser demon then," Michael sighed. He sounded aggravated by this conversation. 

"Hmm. Yeah, I guess," Lucifer said. "I'll have to think about it." 

"Fine. As you wish. Just prepare yourself to care for your charge," Michael told him brusquely. 

"Um-" Lucifer started to say. 

His elder brother didn't even let him finish his sentence. Michael's huge wings unfurled from his back, and with a thundering clap, the Prince of Heaven was gone again.

"Oh, well, screw you too, Mikey!" he yelled at the empty air. 

Lucifer pursed his lips and dragged a hand over his face. He sighed exaggeratedly, sinking onto the damp grass, crossing his legs beneath him. He flipped the folder open, and he set it on the ground. The child had just barely been born a few weeks ago. Brown hair, hazel eyes, a gummy smile. Damn it. The little fleshbag was actually cute. The name was written in bold at the top of the papers. 

**Samuel Winchester:**  
 **Born:** May 2, 1983  
 **Place of Birth:** Lawrence, Kansas

"Well, I guess we're stuck with each other now, huh, Sammy?" Lucifer murmured to the folder. He shook his head and flipped the folder shut. He tucked it under his arm. 


	2. Chapter 2

Lucifer strode down the dark hall and flung open the heavy door. The demons milling about in the throne room jumped in surprise, their black eyes focusing in on him. He grinned, and he stepped into the room. The demons resumed their work after the initial shock. One in particular caught his eye. He wore an all black suit with a red satin tie that split up the monotony of his outfit like a stripe of blood. The fallen angel grinned, and he walked closer to him. The demon's eyes were the standard bloody color of the Crossroads variety. 

"Hey!" Lucifer called out. The demon froze in place. He glanced uncertainly at the fallen angel. Lucifer gestured with his hand for him to come closer. "Yes, you. Come over here." The demon walked toward him, stopping a few steps away. 

"Yes, my liege?" the demon said. He had a rather prominent Scottish accent. 

"You're Crowley, right?" Lucifer asked. 

"Yes, my lord," the demon responded politely. 

"Good, good. You're a Crossroads demon, Macías's right hand," Lucifer stated. 

"I... I am, my lord," Crowley affirmed with a small nod. 

"Awesome. How do you feel about a promotion?" Lucifer asked him. 

"I - pardon? A promotion?" Crowley repeated, blinking in shock. 

"You seem ambitious enough. Conniving enough." The fallen angel gave him an almost friendly smile, stalking around him in steady smooth strides. "Well, if you think you can follow orders and not piss me off, then yeah. I need someone to watch things for me while I go take care of something Topside. Like a manager. So what do you say? Are you up for the task, Crowley?" Lucifer asked. 

"Of course, my lord. I will do whatever you wish of me," Crowley replied. 

"Great. I'm not gonna keep that tight of a leash on you as for what you can and can't do in a leadership position. Because if you screw up, you know that I won't be very happy. Don't you want me to be happy, puppy?" Lucifer said. He placed his hand on Crowley's shoulder and let his eyes flicker red for a moment. Crowley swallowed, staring back at him. 

"Yes. I understand completely, my liege," the demon assured him. 

"I'm glad we are on the same page, Crowley," Lucifer said. 

"As am I, my liege. I can see we're going to get along splendidly," Crowley replied succinctly. 

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves now," Lucifer said with a low chuckle. 

"Of course. My apologies, my lord," Crowley murmured. He ducked his head in deference. 

"Here. Something so that the others won't bother you or doubt your new position," Lucifer said. He lifted his hand up from the demon's shoulder and placed it on his hand. A pale silver ring shimmered into place over his ring finger. The demon raised his hand to look at the rather plain band. A tiny red pitchfork was engraved in the center, glowing softly against the pale metal. 

"Thank you, my lord," Crowley said. 

"So polite," Lucifer commented. "See you later. Have fun, kid." He patted the demon's cheek and strode out into the gloomy hallway, humming to himself. 

 

The Devil stared at the small and squirming bundle. There was nothing to calculate about it. Nothing to be judged or disgusted by. Just a small, squirming, red faced bundle. Which he should hate or at least be indifferent to. But his big hazel eyes were bright and had a burning intensity, a light that revealed the warmth of his pure soul that hid under his skin. His little mouth was opening and closing, and his arms were raised, searching and grabbing at air. Lucifer stared, and then he frowned before a small yawn escaped the tiny mouth.

The soft sound lingered in the air and tore through the fallen angel's frown and then settled around them. It seemed to be all consuming. He could not help but note the effect the small intake of air had on him, on his Grace. It felt as though the sun was shining around them. It felt as though a warm heat was racing through them, emitting energy, and it was intense. It was beautiful, and it was confusing. It was terribly illogical, but it injected itself into Lucifer's metaphorical veins and it made him _feel._ The fallen angel rubbed at his temples and sighed to himself. 

Damn his Father. The old man was always trying to force him into things he didn't necessarily want. 

Damn this child for affecting him in this way. 

The Father of demons did not feel such things. He just did not. And yet he could feel the inexplicable connection that pulsed between them. He had ever since his fingers had touched that folder in the park. He would murder anyone who so much as looked at Sam Winchester wrong. Very violently. 

All Guardian angels had this sort of connection with their charge, but Lucifer had never experienced such a thing himself before. The closest thing he could compare it to was when he was raising Gabriel as a fledgling. Which reminded him. He still had no clue where to look for his estranged little brother. Damn it. 

Lucifer leaned over the side of the crib and smiled down at the baby. Sam looked up at him, big hazel eyes blinking. His tiny hands reached up for Lucifer, opening and closing. Sam made a small excited gasping noise. Lucifer tilted his head, and he reached down with his hand. The baby's little fingers latched onto his index finger, gripping it as fiercely as an infant could grip. Sam gurgled happily at him. 

"What an odd little creature you are, Sammy," Lucifer whispered to the baby. 

Sam grinned a toothless gummy grin at him, and he could sense the little bubble of warmth rise up in the baby's soul. Lucifer blinked. 

"What? Do you like me talking to you?" the fallen angel asked. The baby tugged at his finger, which barely felt like anything really. "Huh? Is that a yes?" 

It was hard to talk to something that didn't have the means to communicate. But the child did seem to be happy with his presence for some reason. 

"Don't you know who I am? What I am? Why are you so happy?" Lucifer asked him. He had inspired many emotions in creatures of all sorts, but he hadn't made anyone happy but his siblings. It was bewildering. Sam just gurgled at him unhelpfully. 


	3. Chapter 3

A cry rang out in the darkness of the bedroom. It was not a full throated cry, just a small distressed whimper, and not from any of the adults in the house. Or that other little boy that lived in the next room over. Lucifer almost fell off his perch from where he was sitting cross legged on the table, and his eyes snapped over to the crib. He slid off the table and walked over to the crib cautiously. The sound got a bit louder as the baby got more distressed. Lucifer stared in confusion at the small wriggling creature in the crib. His tiny face looked a little red, mouth opening and closing as he whimpered. 

He was honestly baffled by the first time he heard Sam start crying in the middle of the night. His siblings had never cried unless they were hurt. Was Sam hurt? Lucifer leaned down and peered at the baby with scrutinizing blue eyes. There didn't appear to be anything wrong with him, which was determined after a quick brush of his Grace over the child. Why the hell was Sam was crying? It made his very being ache for him, and Lucifer began to feel worried. The little fleshbag wasn't hungry. He didn't need a diaper change. What was wrong with Sam? 

"Why are you crying?" Lucifer asked him. "What's the matter with you?" The baby just scrunched up his little face and continued to wail. "You have to calm down, or your parents are gonna wake up, silly. Then we can't have any fun." The noise didn't subside in the slightest. 

The fallen angel frowned. Lucifer stuck his tongue out at Sam, feeling frustrated and possibly more than a little petulant, and the baby stopped crying. Sam's whimpers turned into a soft giggle and a pointed pudgy finger as he poked his tongue out to the side, letting it stretch out the side of his mouth. Sam was staring up at him with wide hazel eyes. Huh. That was an interesting reaction. Hmm...

He crossed his eyes and put his hands up, wiggling his fingers behind his head like how Gabriel had liked when he was a Fledgling, and Sam was absolutely delighted, letting out a squeal of laughter. He blew a raspberry at him, creating an illusion of a traditional Devil's tongue, letting the forked tips of his tongue wiggle around. The baby giggled, reaching up to him with his tiny hands. Lucifer did it again, just to hear Sam make another happy shriek. 

"You just wanted attention, didn't you? Huh, Sammy?" Lucifer said. He made a silly face at Sam. The baby giggled, kicking his little bare feet. "Silly little human." He continued to make faces at the baby, not even noticing the woman standing in the doorway, staring at him with sleep muddled blue eyes. 

 

Mary woke up to the sound of laughter. Baby laughter. The big air gulping belly laugh that only very small children seem able to make. She smiled in her sleepy half awake state and glanced at the clock. 6:05 a.m. She had slept later than she usually did. Sam never stayed quiet this long. She rolled over to see what he was laughing at, but she realized the sound was far away. Not in the room. The place where Sam's crib was empty, and the laughing was coming from across the hall. She remembered that John had moved the crib out into the other room last week. 

Quickly readjusting the sleeves of her nightgown, she made her way toward the hiccoughing laughter coming from the room across the hall. She wrapped her fingers around the handle of the door, and she twisted it to pull it open. She pushed the door inward to reveal the darkened room within. Her baby was in sitting up in his crib. The baby mobile was spinning above his head, but he wasn't focused on that at all. Mary struggled to figure out what he was looking at in the dark room. The curtain was shut, so there was no light from outside either. 

Bright eyes wide, Sam held his breath until... up popped a small pitchfork to the side of his crib, and he dissolved again into hysterical laughter. The pitchfork disappeared for a second and another held breath before reappearing on the other side to clapping and even more squealing. She caught the sound of a deeper baritone laugh as well and chanced a glance near the side of the crib, taking a cautious step forward. Her bare feet were soft and quiet on the carpeted floor. 

A blonde man with softly glowing white wings folded behind his back and pale blue eyes. Sitting cross legged on the floor beside Sam's crib, playing with her few month old baby. Not just playing, but laughing with him. Engaging in a game belonging just to the two of them. Smiling to herself and crossing her arms over her chest, fully convinced that this was a dream now - and what an odd dream it was - she leaned against the wall to watch this adorable absurdity that was her life now for a few more minutes before her son looked over and finally saw her. 

The baby pointed to Mary, dissolving back into giggles. Trying to breathe around laughter hiccups. A dirty blonde disarray of spiky hair poked up from beside the crib, and the angel stared back at her, looking perfectly at ease by her child's side. As if there was not one thing out of place about him sitting on the patterned rug playing peekaboo with a literal mini pitchfork as a puppet. He smiled at her. 

"Good morning, Mary," the angel said. 

"Good morning," she responded. The angel was still there. Mary shook her head and rubbed her eyes. "I think I'm going back to bed. Have fun, you two." She shut the door and padded down the hall to her bed. John was still asleep, so she just crawled into bed next him, pulling the blanket over herself. 


End file.
